


The World After

by Not_So_Dark_One, Steel12Fire



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Bran Stark Bashing, Bronn is dead, F/F, F/M, Mentioned Bronn (ASoIaF), Mostly original characters, Multi, Original Character-centric, Past Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Post - Game of Thrones (TV), Post-Canon, Sansa Stark is Queen in the North, The Reach is awesome and wronged, Three-Eyed Raven Bran Stark, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:07:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25951906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_So_Dark_One/pseuds/Not_So_Dark_One, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steel12Fire/pseuds/Steel12Fire
Summary: What happened after?That is a question that should be answered, yet it was left unspoken as the so-called bittersweet finale of Game of Thrones aired and all the fans dived head into fanfiction, trying to forget their disappointment.This is a story about the World of Ice and Fire after the Great Council of 305 AC.This is the story of Godbrand Greenhand, a nobleman of the Reach, who takes his country into his hands, seeking to right the wrongs inflicted upon it and all of Westeros, at the expense of feeding his boundless ambition.This is the story of Visenya Blackfyre-Targaryen, a secret descendant of two dragon bloodlines, who seeks to protect her aunt's legacy of freedom and avenge her death with fire and blood.This is the story of the World After.
Relationships: Godbrand Greenhand/Olenna Greenhand, Original Characters/Original Characters, Visenya Blackfyre-Targaryen/Original Characters
Kudos: 6





	1. Prologue 1/Godbrand POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prologue, hope you guys like it. This story is made by Not_So_Dark_One and Steel12Fire   
> Chapter written by Steel12Fire

“Move! Move!”, Ser Harwin shouted to the men below, after they took Highgarden. Many men of the garrison surrendered, after their sellsword lord and his sons were killed in their sleep. 

“My lord?”, shouted Ser Alton Redwyne, in his shining silver armor and white surcoat, a grape cluster sewn on his right breast. 

“What is it Ser?” Harwin asked in a cold tone.

“A Tarly host was spotted not far from here, my lord” 

Damn Tarlys, the Tarlys were always loyal to the lords of Highgarden, except for the one time they weren't, “How many men?” 

“We don’t know, the outrider said he counted as fast as he could-” Godbrand cut him off, “How many men?”, he said in a harsher tone than before to Ser Redwyne. 

“He thinks it could be seven hundred or more.” 

“That’s nothing my lord, we can take him head on three times over”, Harwin said. 

Godbrand thought on that for a moment. The Tarlys were always a martial House and Ser Simon Tarly is not to be trifled with. It could be a trap to lure him out.

”Ser Alton, get me Lord Imen Bulwer.” 

“Yes my lord”, Alton bowed and took his leave. Godbrand started walking to where they were keeping Lady Laymelly Lannister and her daughters. While they were walking, Harwin asked,”Let me lead the cavalry.” 

“No”, Harwin was his most ardent supporter, he was the first into battle, he killed two Men-at-Arms and injured three more, but he wasn't a strategist, He would serve as his Lord Commander and be at his sides in battles, and one day when he was ready she would command but not today. 

“Why not?” 

“Because you are not ready. You're too headstrong, not enough experience, but I promise you that when I think you're ready, you will.” 

“Yes my lord”, he said in a sad but happy tone. 

When they got to the apartment they were being held in, they met one of my uncles, Ser Gunthor Hightower, “Ser Gunthor, how are my prisoners?”

“Alright my lord, except the noble lady Laymelly. She keeps weeping.”“For her sellsword? Why? He never treated her any better than a common whore.”, Harwin reacted in a cold tone. 

“No, not for her husband, but for her sons” 

“Ah”, Godbrand knew somewhat of the Sellswords sons, Sandor was tall and spent most of his time with his sisters and in the yard, Jamie although made jokes at the expense of others, and tried to bed maidens, would always apologized, both sons never really liked their father much. His knowledge of the eldest one was the best though. Tyrion Blackwater deserved to die by Godbrad’s blade. Of that he was certain. “Let me see them.” 

“As my lord commands.”, Gunthor, nodded to the Hightower guard to open the door to the apartment. Inside the apartment the weeping got louder and louder, Laymelly was on a couch with a heavy cloth in hand and tears down her cheeks, her golden hair in a mess, her older daughter, Melaria Blackwater, was besides her in her grief and was the only one to get up, and wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Melaria, your name is Melaria, right?”

“Ye...yes, my..lord” 

“Where's your sister?” 

“Joanna is behind the couch, but she doesn't want to talk to anyone.” That was no good, he needed the girls to be willing to go to King’s Landing or he would send them either way. Godbrand crouched down and went behind the couch and turned his head to see a scared little girl crouched down head in her arms sobbing, 

“Hi, there Joanna”, Godbrand said in a soft tone. 

“Who are you?”, the little girl said. 

“I am Godbrand Hightower.” 

“Are you the one that killed my father and brothers?”, Godbrand took a moment to respond but decided to tell the truth. 

“One of them”, Joanna took a hidden dagger and got Godbrand on his back, in surprise at the attack, she got a slice at Godbrand's right check, before he twisted her wrist and threw her off him.

“Joanna”, her mother called, “Why did you do that?”

Joanna got up and pointed at Godbrand, “He killed father, he killed Jamie and Tyrion, he killed Sondor!” 

Godbrand did not like this girl. She did not understand what her father and older brother were doing, but he would take pity on them. He did what he had to do, yet he could not fault them for the way they felt. “My lady if I may talk to you?” 

“Of course my lord.”, they went into another part of the room, “What is it you want my lord?” 

“I am sending you and your daughters to King’s Landing to send Bran the Broken and his Lord Hand a message.” 

“And what would that be my lord?”, before he could speak he felt a thumping on his right side, it was the little girl again, this time she was pounding her fists against his green plate.

“Joanna, stop that now!”, her lady mother commanded, Godbrand was taken aback by the girl, she was only seven yet able to act so harshly to him. She is her father's daughter, she has her father's dark eyes and hair and what seems to be his personality-no, no, I need to stop thinking that way. 

“Ser Gunthor!” 

“Yes my lord.” 

“Give the heads of Lord Bronn and his sons to his daughters and wife and send them with guards to King’s Landing, with this message, Tell them that from now on there will be one House that controls the Reach. That will be House Greenhand.

“House Greenhand, then?”, Gunthor inquired.

“Yes. It is a fitting name. Many already compare me to the legendary hero and I would like to establish a link with the old dynasty. After all, I descend from Garth Greenhand, no?”

“All hail, Lord Godbrand Greenhand. The rightful Lord of Highgarden and the Reach!”

Godbrand commanded six thousand men from Highgarden to meet the Tarly forces that were marching, Lord Bulwer was well ahead of them. The first signs of sunlight came up when the outriders came back reporting on the Tarly host and how it had three thousand men, half of their forces. They could still take them. They met when the sun was half in the sky, the land was still blackish/blue while the sky was on fire. Godbrand sent Ser Arlan Beesbury under a peace banner, saying that Godbrand wished to negotiate their terms of surrender, when he came back he said,”Ser Simon Tarly says he will negotiate with you”.

Godbrand took ten knights and Ser Harwin, while Ser Simon took seven mounted men at arms by the look of it, likely concealing the true strength of his forces. Simon Tarly, was one of the best knights in the realm. His armor was dyed red with deep black ringmail and a pigface helmet and green cloak, the opposite of Godbrand’s green and gold armor. When they came to face each other on horseback they raised their visors and came eye to eye. “Ser Godbrand, may I ask what are you doing here?”, he said in his mocking tone.

”It’s lord!”, Ser Harwin exclaimed. 

“What?” 

“It’s lord, I said! Are you deaf?” 

“Lord of what, being a younger son?” 

“Lord of Highgarden!, Ser knight.”, Godbrand shouted. 

“Really? Because last time I checked, Lord Bronn Blackwater held Highgarden, or now one of his sons is lord? Sandor perhaps? Or did you kill that sweet summerchild, too?”

Godbrand stared into Simon’s soul and said, “It had to be done, that House was ruling illegally and they had no blood right to the Reach.”, 

“That may be so, but House Tarly and others are loyal to their liege lord and the King!” 

“True, but I ask you this Ser, how can you remain loyal to a lord that abuses his power, a man that never gives only takes, a man that kills smallfolk and rapes wives and daughters, all because they didn't want to pay his enormous taxes, when his coffers are so full to the brim that there is a endanger of bursting? A man who plays lords off one another, not the ruler who can make hard decisions, who knows right from wrong? I ask you Ser is this the person you're loyal to? Well, not me and not others.”

Simon was taken aback by that, “What others, I know of many houses still loyal to Highgarden: Tarly, Ashford, Peake, Merryweather, Red Apple Fossoways, Footly, Lorrant, Ambrose, Ball and others.” 

“That's all you have. I have thirty thousand men supporting me and my goals. I have the Hightower, the Redwynes, the Rowans, the Bulwers and countless more. I will win the Reach by Fire and Blood ser, no more, no less, and if you won’t submit to me, then get out of my way. Be at least the craven, who hides in his castle instead of taking part in undoing the wrongs of our country.” 

Ser Simon smirked and made a sound, “I wish you good fortune in the wars to come, to all of you, but now it ends, this farce of a treason.”, 

He went to turn his horse but right before he reached it, Godbrand had the final word. 

“No Ser, now it ends and the wheel will burn.”


	2. Prologue 2/Visenya POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prologue 2 - introduction of Visenya
> 
> Chapter by Not_So_Dark_One

The ashes spread through the sky as Visenya set her foot upon the scorched soil. It took her months, but she finally claimed all the Stepstones for her own. 

“I may not be her child by blood, but she raised me, she protected me, she fed me from her own breast. I will continue her legacy and all who stand in my way, will burn.”

Those were the words she told magister Illyrio Mopatis of Pentos, right before she fed him to Drogon for his troubles. 

And that is what she was doing. Continuing her great mother’s legacy.  
Her aunt, rather.

She was Visenya Blackfyre-Targaryen - daughter of the Beggar King Viserys and a whore. Yet, her mother was no common whore, but a Blackfyre impoverished.   
Her mother had died in childbirth, her identity revealed to her only by the late magister, who revealed it just to spite her.

Her father had refused her, yet her aunt accepted her as her own child, kept secret from her enemies and most friends.   
Raised in secret by her sainted mother in all but name, she became a woman grown.

Strong.

Resilient. 

Indomitable.

Yet none of that helped her much, when her mother was killed in Westeros, betrayed and broken-hearted, as her foes defamed her and broke her legacy by installing a cripple on her throne and sparing the life of her killer, while rewarding those who conspired against her.

It has been years since she began her quest. Since Drogon flew into Daznak’s pit and brought Daenerys’ body. Since that body was taken by the Red Priests, who had deified her mother and named Daenerys, The Mother of Light.  
Since Visenya had taken it upon herself to abhold her legacy and destroy slavery.  
She crushed her mother’s enemies one at a time. The slavers in the Bay of Dragons had tried to rebel again after they heard her dead. Tried being the key word, they were all dead. The Free cities rose against her - and failed. The slaves revolted as soon as she got close to their gates. Save for Braavos, all were kneeling for her now.

The Tyroshi fools thought to flee here. To the Stepstones to gather an army. To beg the Seven or however many kingdoms they were for help.

“There will be no mercy.” She told the Archon of Tyrosh whose fate was soon sealed inside Drogon’s belly.

The surrendered troops were kneeling before her, while her first husband and general, Grazdan zo Kherzhyn shouted:

“Rejoice, peoples of the Stepstones. You have been liberated by her Divine Majesty, the Empress Visenya of Houses Blackfyre and Targaryen, Empress of the Valyrian-Ghiscari Empire, Queen of the Bay of Dragons, Heir to Daenerys, Mistress of the Rhoyne and Defender of the Free. Pledge your fealty to her and your lives will be better for it and your children grateful. Refuse and die.”

As soon as he was finished, the entire ragtag bunch of misfits began begging for their lives. Being the strong yet fair ruler that she was, Visenya granted them their lives. There was no need to kill them, they knew what would happen if they chose to defy her. The burning Tyroshi fleets and Drogon’s mighty roar were enough proof of that.

As soon as she was done with the Stepstones, she travelled back to Daenerision. The mighty city she had built upon the ruins of Volantis was almost completed. A massive palace of marble and black stone was erected in its center, the heart of her dominions and home of her family. 

Visenya lay in bed with her second wife and fourth spouse, Allyandra Martell of Dorne. She was the latest of Visenya’s conquests and the way her sister, Princess Nymeria Martell had chosen to seal their secret alliance.   
It was no secret that the Empress married those she had affection or use for and Allyandra was both. 

Some said she was depraved, others claimed that she could do as she liked. Both were in the right. 

She was depraved and she could do as she liked. What men claimed were her limits, she craved to surpass. A challenge was not a thing she could refuse.   
And consequences….well…...they were just another challenge to her as well. One she surpassed every time, for there was no one in the world who could say no to a dragon.

Still, she had to secure her dynasty and she wanted a family. That is why her marriages resulted in more than lust - her children.   
Her darlings were growing fast and would no doubt prove their own greatness in time. Little Daenerys was already 9 years old, the twins Tregor and Aemon nearly 6. 

She had it all, yet she still wanted something else. Something which had eluded her before, for which she awaited opportunity - revenge on Westeros.

Her mother’s killer had been slain, yet there was more to be done to honor her. More justice to be meted.

“My love, won’t you sleep? I miss your embrace.” the sleepy voice of her wife called her, sweet even then.  
“Later, my darling. I have just one more thing to do.”  
Visenya took her robe to cover herself and went to the temple. It was a massive Red Temple, dedicated to her mother, the new god the red priests worshipped.   
A massive statue of the Breaker of Chains rose in the middle - the details masterfully crafted. It had been built from obsidian and shone mysteriously in the torch-lit room.

“Beloved mother, I seek your guidance.” She sat on the floor, like a child looking up to her parents, waiting for a response. The dragonglass illuminated itself from the inside out, flames trickling from the statue’s base up to its head. The flames took the shape of a woman, who in life had silver hair and rode dragons in the name of right and justice.

“You’ve done well, my darling.” Daenerys spoke. “You have done more than well, magnificently even. You have taken the last of those allegedly free cities and given freedom to its people.”

“They will never forget you mother, I swear it.”

“My beloved child, do not waste your life with hatred and deceit. Live it for yourself, too. You have already exacted revenge on my treacherous nephew.”

“But the others still live.” She shouted. “The Imp, the Northern Queen, the Broken King. They must pay for what they did to you.”

“What I did also matters, sweetling.”

“But they caused it with their avarice and evil. You would never have fallen, had you been treated as you were owed.”

“Whatever path you choose to take, I will support you and shield you from the magic of the Three-eyed-raven.”

“Thank you mother. I will make you proud.”

“I already am.” Daenerys said and disappeared back into the night.

Having restored her calm, Visenya returned to her bed. Her final vengeance will soon come. The events her mother predicted were already happening. Soon, it will come the time to destroy the Raven and his allies. And then, Visenya Blackfyre-Targaryen will have peace at last and shall no longer think for the past.


	3. Dahlia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Dahlia. A commoner, daughter of a fisherman....and a future knight

_ “Stay as quiet as a fox” _ , she told herself, _ “Watch the ground, for vines, roots and stems, be quick, remember how to knock, draw and loose the arrow”, _ she kept repeating that in her head over and over and over. She was hunting a large stag in lord Lorent’s lands, who was known by the smallfolk for handing out horrible punishments for hunting like losing both hands or feet. Dahlia had heard her father talk about their grandfather, and his battles in the War of the Five Kings and the Dragon Queen’s War', How their grandfather was at the Battle of the Blackwater, and how he marched with the mountain to Harrenhal to get rid of some sellsword company that had switched sides to the Starks of Winterfell.

How she had missed those days back on the coast of GreenShield, where they were all safe for a while, until he came with his knights, the fat lord, was already being feasted at the keep, with plenty of women to tend to his every need.

_ Don't think about that now _ , a voice in her head said. So she stayed quiet and crept to where she scouted out a light forest where she followed stags and deer. When she looked over one tree and saw a stag and two deer eating grass, unaware of what was about to come, she took a deep breath, knocked, drew and loose the bow string, into the stag's head. 

When she tied the stag up to a large stick And carried it all the way back to her cave. 

In her cave she had a bunch of furs for sleeping upon and a larger one to be a blanket, and a nice cool pool of water where she could bathe after every hunt and skinning of the animals and wash her clothes in, her rusted old sword was titled up ready to be practiced upon the trees outside. She dropped the stag, and went to get her bone knives from her leather pouch, where she kept most of her hunting equipment, she unfolded the poch and got the white, knife from the leg of a fox, or half a leg, if truth be told. 

When she went to her knees and looked up to the ceiling of the cave and closed her eyes and said, “Thank the seven for this plentiful gift that i will use to the best of my abilities”, she would use some of the meat for meals, but not all of it, she would go into the Hobbers Village, and sell the meat before it went bad to an Inn’s cook, she could take the furs and antlers also, the furs she could sell to Cragmill the fur trader for some good coin, and the antlers she could give to the old man, as he was a go caver and looking for things other than wood to carve “Cyvasse” pieces to play, he had a board to play. 

When she was done with the skinning, blood, guts and sweat, she was covered in all of it, she would have to bathe and then wash it,  _ I hate this, but one day one day you will get revenge, your...I'm right,  _ just wait one day, one day I'll get my vengeance. 

She took off her clothes and bathed and washed her clothes as well, the waters were cool and crystal clear, she always wondered where the water was coming from the walls?

After bathing she used a large fur to dry off and draped it over herself, and then hung up her clothes to dry,  _ hopefully they were dry enough to where _ , and that her walk in the sun would dry them off completely. She took off her fur and wrapped herself in dryer better furs, after that she gathered wood and made a fire, for her meat, after it was good and ripe she broke her fast by taring into it and ate it all up, after she was full she crawled into her furs and tried and had a dreamless sleep.

She woke up not knowing what time it was, it took her some time before she made herself get up and check what time of day it was, her furs dropped from her as she went to check. She prepared herself as she went to check the light, but the leaves on the tall trees covered it from how bad it would have been, _ morning,  _ she thought, she went to check her clothes, they were dry enough to where and the hot sun would make them dry. 

She put her boots on and gathered everything together and put the meat in a sack, and all the others she put in another sack, she took her knives for protection, and then she started walking and walking and walking and walking, until coming across a steam, she took a large drink from it, and used the water to wash the sweat and dirt from her face and continued walking. 

When she overcame a hill, and looked down on Hobbers Village, in reality it was more a town, it had many inns and peddlers, and a somewhat rich merchant class. When she went down the hill, twenty knights rushed past her, two carrying the banner of House Lorent, “A black fox on a green field, surrounded by eight gold coins”.

She rushed down the hill with her sacks waiting to know what was going on, _ War is going on she thought, no that couldn't be, yes it could, lords throughout the realm where rising up in revolt against there horrible King who does nothing to punish his vassals, I hope the Lorents are. _ The knights went into the town square, and one of them read from a piece of parchment and said, “By the name of his liege lord, Lord Jason Lorent is calling able body men from the age of sixteen to forty eight. Those who join will be given gambeson or mail for armor, spears and any other arms. We will stay here for the night, but we march at sunlight!”

When the people heard that, they cheered, they embraced their loved ones, or swarmed Inns and brothels to spend their last nights with friends or warmth. But Dahlia didn’t. 

The people she loved were taken from her, she went through the crowd, to reach a knight, whose shield was a blue, red and green stripes on a white field. “Excuse me ser, what lord are you supporting?” 

The knight looked down on her, “That is not for anyone to know, or you for that matter”.

_ “Damn” _ , she thought, she hoped that the lord was beginning opportunistic and waiting for who would win, and then the thought came to her, she ran with her sacks to, an alleyway and opened the door, and negotiated, him to pay three silver wolfs, she then sold the furs for nine copper pieces, and then to the old man, to give him the stag antlers. When she got there he was staying where he always had been behind a table sometimes reading, writing or carving something, but this time he was watching. “What are you watching?”

He smiled with his lips as well as his grey friendly eyebrows, “The people!”, he exclaimed. 

“Why?” 

“Because they don’t know what they are giving up”, Dahlia sat in the chair opposite him. 

“What do you mean? War is glorious, knights and men show their bravery and skill on the battlefield” 

The old man smiled with his thin lips, “Really? Then tell me this, does your lord, or any lord for that matter, care for the men they’re sending into battle, or are the smallfolk just fodder, like the rabble in Cyvasse, just to further one’s ambition, the smallfolk, do not care for any game, they only hope for healthy children, a long summer and lords and knights that are good to them, so in a way they always win and lose the game. 

Dahlia raised her eyebrow at the man, “And what if the lords and knights aren't good to you, what if they kill your children or worse? What are you supposed to do, sit down and take it or rise up in vengeance, like Aegon the Conqueror did?” 

“Aegon did not conquer Westeros because of vengeance. He did it to end all the wars, to unite Westeros to help it stop bleeding, and by vengeance you mean justice?” 

“Justice or vengeance, it's all the same.” 

The old man shook his bald head and made multiple noises, “No, no, no, they are different. Justice gives you closer to know that some things gone in a good way, vengeance is what drives people, who suffered injustice throughout their life, it fuels hate, anger and indifference, it causes more suffering and harm, if you learn one thing from this conversion, young lady, then learn this, be happy in life do not spend it on traceries, forget the past, be happy and help other people to make sure they don’t go through the same injustices”. 

Dahlia didn't know what to say, she just said, “Here are some antlers you could use for your game, you have some wood from the North for your black pieces well use these for your white, you don’t have to pay for it” 

“I would like to.”, he said, “No, no, no I couldn't take it”, the old man frowned. 

“Well alright then.”, he pulled out a golden dragon from under his blue robes, “Do me a favor will you?”, she nodded her head, “If I give you this Dragon will you find a good enough singer, give them this coin and tell them to play three songs in this order” 

“What?” 

“The Dornishman's Wife, The Last of the Giants and the Ballad of Danny Flint, can you do this”. 

She memorized them in her head and then said, “Yes”, after she said that he flipped her the coin which she caught, and then for better or worse she followed the men to Brightwater Keep in the morning.

  
  



	4. The Small Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion marches an army towards Highgarden and learns a bitter lesson
> 
> Chapter by Not_So_Dark_One

Tyrion was too old for this. Like really too old for this. Then again, he was honestly surprised that Bronn had lasted as long as he did in his position.

Appointing him to Highgarden’s lordship was by far Tyrion’s stupidest move ever. And that was no easy feat. 

Bran was not much of a king really. As nice as it was in the beginning to have someone listening to every word you said, Bran lacked charisma, worshipped gods scorned by almost everyone south of the Neck, had no army and the attention span of a child, which grew worse with age.

Regardless it was done. Bronn and his sons were dead and the proof was brought by his cousin Laymelly and her daughters. The poor things looked dreadful, but then again he was the one who placed them in such a situation when he married her to Bronn in the first place. 

The raven had immense effect on the court at King’s Landing. Godbrand Hightower, or Greenhand as he called himself now, had taken Highgarden and half the Reach hailed him their Lord. What was worse was that this was the stronger part - Oldtown, The Arbor and many more. 

Tyrion did his best to calm the court. He sent ravens to lords they still knew didn't support Godbrand Hightower - Merryweather, Red Apple Fossoway, Meadows, Peake, Ball and Caswell. He told them to gather their swords quickly and dip them at Bitterbridge. After that he sent word to the Riverlands to gather their spears, which thanks to Ser Hoster Tully, son and regent of the ailing Lord Edmure, he knew would arrive. The Imp had no love for the man, who just like his father, had dreams of kingship, yet his support was vital.

He sent word to the Vale also, although he knew how unlikely it was that Lady Regent Shiera Arryn would send help in the name of Bronn or Tyrion, both of whom the lady born of House Velaryon despised. 

Dorne and the Stormlands though would absolutely turn the tide against in favor for them, Princess Nymeria and her sons would take the Reach in the rear, taking or sacking Oldtown and the lord Davos, Tyrion thought for a moment of another Davos but this Davos was not seaworthy. However the “Lightning Storm”, and his knights would crash against the mighty host. 

But such excitement was for naught. Nymeria said it would take time to gather all thirty thousand spears and Tyrion had heard nothing from the Lightning Storm. He also didn’t know just how fervent such support would be. Dorne mostly kept to itself these days and Lord Davos, same as his father, was not too keen on bothering himself with anything outside his dominions.

His most reliable ally was his own son, Loreon. The boy was all a father could hope for, yet their relationship was not the best. Under pressure from his cousins, as soon as Loreon came of age, Tyrion had abdicated in his favor. His son was the lord of Casterly Rock and Tyrion was proud with his work to restore their house to prominence. The boy had even managed to find several new gold mines there and enlarge Lannisport. Sadly, Tyrion’s hateful cousins had been poisoning the boy against him for years. Still, Loreon was a dutiful lad, he would send support. 

So Tyrion, with four of the King’s Guard, five thousand Lannister troops, seven thousand from the Riverlands and another thousand from the Crowlands, met a large twelve thousand man host at Bitterbridge, giving Bran the Broken, twenty-five thousand lonely supporters. 

Now he had an army to fight. The old Imp decided to lead it himself for two reasons:

1 - It would help to inspire them somewhat. 

2 - Even if he died, the Old Lannister was too tired to care. 

He had wasted his life serving the realm and quite frankly, he had had enough. 

Tyrion’s host marched on Highgarden as fast as legs and horse feet could carry them. As soon as they reached their destination, Imp witnessed the enemy banners, fluttering in the wind. 

The lit tower of Hightower.   
The purple grapes of Redwyne.

The green apple of Fossoway of New Barrel

The golden Oak Tree of Rowan

The yellow cranes of the Cranes

The black bar of Blackbar

Others too. Countless more in fact, though Tyrion had care for but a few. The Lady Tarly had deserted them obviously after her eldest son lost the battle. It would seem that one battle was all it took to break the proud Tarlys. Again. The younger son had obviously chosen another side.

_ Unreliable cunts as per usual. Then again, Maester Samwell’s kin was always unreliable, same as their Grand Maester, who got poisoned by maesters in Oldtown, denying it as they may. _

The oddest banner was a historical apparition. The green hand on a white field had been the symbol of the Gardener dynasty, yet the Hightower knight had seen fit to take it for his own. He could spot him in the middle, sitting atop his horse in his unmistakable green armor.

As was custom, they held a parley under the banner of truce. 

Lords Hightower, the father of the leader, as well as Redwyne, the good-father of the Green Knight, accompanied him. Tyrion was accompanied by Ser Hoster and Lord Merryweather.

“Lord Hand, it is good to see you on such a sunny day.” casually exclaimed Godbrand. Beneath his helmet he may have been handsome, yet he kept it on. Tyrion recognized the voice though.

“Lord Godbrand, it seems to us that you are turncloak and traitor. Betraying your liege and king with your malicious actions. Made a widow of my cousin and her poor daughters orphans.”

“Orphans they are not, their mother still lives. Their father and brothers though do not. They were imposed upon the Reach by your king and yourself, none of us asked for them.”

“It is treason what you speak, ser.” Shouted Merryweather. “See behind us. We have 25 thousand men. From what my eyes see, you have about 10. We will show you no mercy.”

“How rude of you. And I was planning on being merciful and letting you survive this, my lord Merryweather, for you are my countryman. Your companions are of different breed though. Oppressors of the Reach. Them and their unlawful king.”

“Unlawful? I dare say he is the most lawful of them all. The lords chose him.” exclaimed Hoster Tully. 

“The lords of where? Of whom? Half the members of your so-called Great Council were his kin, the rest - their allies. The Greyjoys showed you their disapproval when they freed themselves from your tyranny. And no reachman was invited to your little gathering.”

The thought brought bad memories to Imp of Lannister. He cared not a fig for the Reachmen, yet he recalled how pathetic was his dealing with the Second Greyjoy Rebellion. Unlike her father, Yara was successful in crushing the scant resistance the mainland could offer and Tyrion was humiliated when he was forced to sign a decree of secession in Lannisport of all places. Ironborn could do as they liked, though out of memory for Daenerys perhaps, Yara made her men seek other ways for profit, which inadvertently made them even more powerful. The bloody woman even named her son after the late dragon queen. It is he, Daenar Greyjoy who ruled as king there now and Bran was reduced to Lord of five kingdoms, which could well become four, if things went badly today.

“Your way of thought is understandable, my lord. It truly is, yet I mean not to war unless I have to. Come with me to the capital and swear yourself to King Bran and you may yet save your life and if the king is graceful you may even keep your new castle.”

Tyrion hated to offer such terms, for they made him look weak, yet he needed to fix things in the Reach and the man in green armor had too much support among the commons and lords.

The Greenhand lifted his helmet’s vizor. The face was youthful, yet had a beard on it, neatly trimmed and dirty blond. He smiled in a cruel way and told him: 

“It is your mistake that you came here, my lord. You and all these ‘fine’ noblemen. I had some trouble in determining which of Highgarden’s bannermen were loyal and who were not and you did splendidly in flushing them out. It would seem to me that my loyal lords would have many castles to pick from as rewards for their loyalty.”

“It is madness what you speak of, ser.” Hoster barked. “We outnumber you almost three times.”

“No.” Lord Baelor smirked. “If you look to the side, you would see that my son outnumbers  _ you _ .” 

Imp glanced left and right and his confidence shattered, when he saw armies of the same size as one ahead charging them from east and west. Banners of Laurent from west and banners of Bulwer from the east.

_ He tricked us.  _

“This is dishonorable. Attacking us from the side in the midst of parlay.” exclaimed Merryweather.

“No, my lord. It is merely my preferred tactic when treating dishonorable men. My apologies if you were expecting me to wait until I finished this farce of a parlay.” 

Before the usurper of Highgarden could finish his little speech, Tyrion rode hard for his own host, while Greenhand rose his fist in the sky and commanded his own army to charge ahead. Tully and Merryweather would have been spotted by him following away from battle also, had Tyrion bothered to look back. 

The battle was on and may the gods help them for Tyrion suspected the result would not be to his liking.

Tyrion ran and all hell broke loose on the battlefield.

  
  



	5. The Lady Commander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by Steel12Fire

Brienne had been Lord Commander for King Brandon the Broken for forty years. She had advocated for the removal of Bronn as Lord of Highgarden as he was unsuited and unready for the position and the recent events had proven her right.

But she would have never thought that the Lord Hand would ever do anything so rash, as they were surrounded by thirty-thousand men, charged right into the center.

Her first thought was to tell her white cloaks, what to do, “Ser Morris and Ser Malcom, protect the Lord Hand no matter what.”Out of all of the Kingsguard, the most martial were he and Ser Morris, who had Dawn, the longsword of House Dayne, “Ser Denis, help Ser Hoster on the right flank. Now, all of you go!” 

“Yes Lord Commander!” they all said in unison. They all put down their visors from their golden helms and plate, under it black chainmail to protect them from stabs, their white cloaks flapping behind him.

Brienne, had token the left flank with Lord Fosoway and Lord Oldflowers.

She charged with the rest of the heavy horse and knights, as they closed the distance with the lord Bulwer, men were chanting something: “Greenhand! Greenhand! Greenhand!”, the traitors were chanting. 

Brienne readyed her lance and then. The sounds of, armor, hitting metal, the sounds of horses in pain, men screaming obscenities, it was horror. Half of Brienne’s lance was gone as it was likely in a knight or a horse, but now she had taken her two swords, her longsword, “Oathkeeper”, the red dyed blade, of Valyrian Steel, if her cloak didn't give her away, then this would, and her arming sword, that Ser Malcom had called, “The silver hand”, once, Brienne remembered a man with a golden hand. Brienne didn't know how or what she was doing anything, it was just her reflexes, acting out, a man in a black iron half-helm and mail, over it he wore a surcoat of, Quartered: a silver chalice on black, a black rose on gold the sigil House Costayne, he charged at her on foot, with axe and a wooden, shield that had a black rose on it. The man put his full force behind the attack, on the giant women who was mounted on an armored horse, Brienne, parried of the man's attack with “Silver Hand” in her left, and then slashed down with, “Oathkeeper”, the sword slashed down, on the man’s arm, through the chainmail, and the man screamed, he dropped the shield and reached for his newly found stupe, squirting blood, to bad for him. 

Brienne, looked around the battlefield, it was a mess, dry dirt was being, put in the air, with riderless horses, men of different births, fighting, beginning for mercy got it, or didn't, the body’s where starting to pile up and the smell of shit and blood filled the air. Brienne rode through, the battle, she, meat a knight of house Fossoway, with a green apple on his shield, she, parried the man’s blows then cut of his right arm and then his head, his horse went riding into the battlefield, with a headless rider, with one arm. 

“Kingsguard!”, a spearman shouted, Brienne looked in the man's directions and saw that he had some silver animal on a blue field, at first she thought it was a Velaryon, but they were in Blackwater Bay, no this was some old House of the Reach, that she never heard of. Brienne then realised that there were four other spearmen behind him, three had the same device on their shield, but one had a device that Brienne knew, a Norridge man there sigil was, a flight of flaming arrows rising bendwise on a bluedfield. “ _ They are trying to capture me”, _ she thought,  _ that won't happen _ , she rode towards them preparing her swords for a strike,  _ there going to die _ . When she came close to the first man, she prepared to throw down “Oathkeeper”, when her horse raised up and screamed. 

_ Fuck _ . The horse fell on it’s side, Brienne was quick enough to get out of it but lost Oathkeeper on the way down. Brienne groaned as she was done hitting the ground,  _ I need to get up but how? _ things hert, but she needs to get moving, or she would be…, “Yield!”, she heard a man above her say, he was brawny, and had a rusted beard, men came up and surrounded Brienne. She realized that, “Silver hand”, was still in her hand, 

“Don’t try anything lady”, the man said, “Pick her up and take her to the rear and put her in…”, as he said that a riderless horse ran him down, as the others were, distracted, she had put a plan in her head, she used her her right hand to unsheath her dirk and then gripped the handle of, “Silver Hand”, she got up and swung up Silver Hand at the, first man on her left, he acted ercaticel and lifted his shield, and blocked, Brienne’s strike, the two other men where running from, men in orange,white and Caswell, where coming up and making a line fighting off any of the men, Brienne then focused her, with the man she had fought off her, he was now in a reading stance and pounced on Brienne, he came down on his spear, she took two step’s back and dogged the attack,

The man’s spear hit the ground, Brienne didn't wait one moment to take the opportunity, she put, “Silver Hand”, into the top of the man’s head right through the half-helm, Brienne looked around for, “Oathkeeper”, where was it,  _ I need to find it _ , It was special to Brienne, it was given to her by a man she loved.  _ There it is _ , it was in the dirt, it was titled up by a horse, she went through the battle again, trying to get the sword, she killed another three men to get to the sword. 

_Just leave the sword, it’s not important, it’s just a sword, you’ll get yourself killed!But_ she couldn't just let it go, it was Valyrian Steel the sharpest steel in all the world, it could go through armor and steel, like butter and kill _others_. When she went to pick it up, she heard a large, bull like horn, when she turned her head she saw a meny horse’s, the knights carried, the sigil of the House Bulwer, and one was the personnel sigil on, lord Imen Bulwar, a skeleton of a bull, rampant on a black field, he was going to charge into the host. 

Brienne went to join the host, she picked up a Caswell shield and braced for the attack. When she saw lord, Bulwar and his gigantic size, reminded her of a mountain and a hound. His bull helm reminded her of the Bull of Storm’s End, but his pale white armor reminded her of the Stranger and the whites, riding her to kill them, _ No! _ , but there is no way she would die to them, to some men, she fought off literal dead men and madical ice demons,  _ No Way i'm going to die today _ . 

Then, a part of a spear got stuck in her shoulder, and she fell on top of bodys that died, first to die, it all went black she thought of all the people she had met, the man she loved, the people she had fought with and spard with. But she could still hear the battle.

**Author's Note:**

> For extra info:
> 
> https://gameofthronesfanon.fandom.com/wiki/Category:The_World_After
> 
> We will try to update weekly.


End file.
